


look like th'innocent flower, but be the serpent under't

by Chaos_Greymistchild



Category: Bleach
Genre: Dark Kurosaki Ichigo, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Manipulation, Hanahaki Disease, I forgot to post this for most of a day, M/M, Multi, My NaNo Crew Needs To Stop Tagging My Fic, Unconventional Hanahaki AU, Unrequited Love, no beta we die like cowards, oh no, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25014418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaos_Greymistchild/pseuds/Chaos_Greymistchild
Summary: Aizen chooses the blooms for his gardens with the most careful eye. It is the exotic and the beautiful that draw him, and the harder they are to cultivate, the closer he carries them in his heart.Kisuke is beyond lovely.
Relationships: Aizen Sousuke & Kurosaki Ichigo, Aizen Sousuke/Ulquiorra Cifer, Aizen Sousuke/Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke, More Relationship Tags to be Added
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	1. Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Hanahaki AU based off of [this post](https://twitter.com/goryscribbles/status/1263983824402173952)
> 
> Thank you cocoven for giving me the drive and the opporunity to write this poly hanahaki for the bleach polyship off :3

“If you’ll-- please excuse me,” Kisuke blurted out, and ran for the bathroom.

He could feel the flowers pushing at the back of his throat and taste rust on his tongue. He made it into the bathroom with just enough time to slam a toilet stall closed behind him before he leaned over the toilet and retched.

Blood was the first thing to come up, but he waited, patient and painful, as the next shuddering convulsion racked his frame. Petals, slowly, spat out in mouthfuls and then a single bulb, tightly furled. He waited, just to be certain that it hadn’t developed more.

Nothing else came up except blood and bile.

He laughed softly to himself and sat back on the cold linoleum floor. He was so pathetic, wasn’t he? Chasing after a boy at least two decades younger than himself and so oblivious to romance that it was almost painful beyond the flowers.

Slowly, he pulled himself off the floor, and tucked what had survived the retching into the toilet into his pocket, careful not to crush anything. It was pathetic, but he didn’t exactly have anywhere lower to fall, right?

He held in the sobbing laughs he wanted to let out, aware of the creaking open of the door hinge and the soft tap-tap of shoes coming to a rest at the sinks. Water gushed out from the tap.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Ichigo would be missing him.

He wiped what blood there was off his face then threw the toilet paper into the bowl and flushed away the evidence.

A brown-haired man, with glasses carefully placed in the centre of the narrow ledge, was washing his face at the sink.

Kisuke looked at himself in the mirror.

He looked awful.

He glanced over to see the strikingly handsome brown-haired man staring at him. The man’s eyes flickered away when their eyes met through the mirror. A moment later, the man was glancing back, like he couldn’t help himself.

“Excuse me?” he asked, finally reaching to turn the tap on and a little irritated at the hold up.

“Ah,” the man mumbled, his voice musical, “I was just—captivated. By your beauty. And um- you’re- Urahara Kisuke, right?”

At his hesitant nod, the man puffed up. “I’ve read all your papers! Even the ones from when you were still studying at Sereitei, umm the one about nano bio-tech in the bloodstream.” The man paused, blushing. “I’m sorry, uhh, I’m Aizen Sousuke, I’ve been a fan of yours since,” he cleared his throat, “for ah, a long time.”

Despite himself, Kisuke could feel himself softening to the shy man.

“Thank you,” he told the man with a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

Aizen looked like he had sparkles in his eyes and was about to vibrate out of his skin in excitement at just that much. “It’s no worry!! Not a problem!! I should be thanking you!! I—I’ve always wanted to meet you, so this is— Oh this probably sounds so weird doesn’t it? I’m so sorry for troubling you and—”

“It’s alright,” he cut Aizen off, “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Aizen fairly beamed in relief.

He turned the tap off. “I’ll need to be going now. Goodbye, Aizen.”

Aizen nodded frantically. “Goodbye, Mr Urahara! I hope I see you again!”

He forced himself to smile at the man, but his lips shuddered and twitched. He was too drained from coughing up flowers to deal well with Aizen’s exuberance.

Kisuke didn’t want to know how awful he must look, not when he had to go out and pretend he was— if not fine, at least decent. He couldn’t burden Ichigo like this. It would be— cruel. Beyond cruel. A shackle, and Ichigo— he was too kind, too selfless, too giving. He couldn’t do that to him.

Alone in the hall, he braced himself one last time. He took the extra time to smooth his expression into something that was, if not smiling, at least not a grimace of pain.

When he got back to Ichigo, he had forced himself into something resembling unaffected, despite the churning in his gut and they way his legs felt like they would buckle and sway with every step.

One step at a time. Steady, a little sway enough to not be stiff, long strides to eat up ground but stay slow and sure.

“What’s wrong, Kisuke?”

He should have known that Ichigo would know him well enough to see through his pretence.

“Just a stomach ache,” he lied, “I think I might have eaten something that didn’t agree with me.”

Ichigo huffed. “Don’t tell me you forgot to check the expiration date _again_.”

He laughed helplessly. “I got distracted?” he offered.

“ _Kisuke_.”

“I think I might have some new buds soon.”

“… congratulations.”

“Don’t be so tetchy. Didn’t you say you had a solid growth in already?”

“ _My cat’s paws_.”

“Just find another.”

“Clearly you have no clue how rare and difficult to find and breed those are.”

“… give that I just stole them off you, yeah.”

“I’m sighing, in case you didn’t hear.”

“Oh, believe me I heard that. So dramatic, you bastard.”

“Ah, I wanted to tell you I’ve about reached the end of the line with this lot, so I’m letting you know I might start chasing another flower soon.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“He has the nicest blood-red true lilies, doesn’t he?”

“… if you think of stealing them from me, I’ll burn your garden to the ground and you with it.”

“… noted. I’ll be seeing you.”


	2. Asphodel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating something before I write and complete and post another fic?? Miracle and blood magic sacrifice.

Ulquiorra sighed, again. Sousuke looked back at him, and those lips curved into a thin sliver of a smile. He didn’t know what love felt like, he didn’t ever notice himself feeling warm or bubblier in Sousuke’s presence, but he did know what devotion felt like, and he did know what loyalty felt like, and he thought that perhaps that was what love felt like.

He did not quite smile back, knew that he was incapable of curling his lips into something that seemed soft and sincere.

It was enough, though, for Sousuke.

And if it was enough for Sousuke, it was enough for him.

Sousuke put a hand on his cheek and he leaned into it. A thumb brushed over his cheekbones. He swayed into it with a sigh.

“Oh, Ulquiorra,” Sousuke sighed, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

He melted into it, pliant and soft and quiet.

“Mr Aizen?” A voice asked softly, interrupting them.

He peeled himself away from Sousuke with something that may have resembled reluctance.

“Mr Urahara!” Sousuke blurted out with shock painted clear over his face. “This is, umm, my umm…”

Ah. Sousuke had finished with Jaegerjaquez and was on the hunt for another.

“I am Ulquiorra Cifer,” he introduced himself, reaching a hand out to shake.

“Ah, Kisuke Urahara,” Urahara said hesitantly, shaking his hand meekly and glancing at Sousuke.

“Ah, I am Sousuke’s former partner,” he said belatedly, “We are on good terms with each other.”

“I’ll see you another time then, Mr Aizen,” Urahara said, hesitantly, still glancing between the two of them.

“No!” Sousuke blurted out, a hand reaching forward reflexively to grab at Urahara’s sleeve, before he seemed to totally withdraw into himself. “That is—I mean—I’m sorry that was so rude of me—I just—”

Ulquiorra tilted his head and arranged himself in an approximation of a smile. “We would be happy for you to stay if you wanted to.” He offered, because Sousuke could not, yet clearly wanted the man to stay.

Urahara dithered.

He sighed, kissed Sousuke on the cheek, and turned to leave. “Sousuke, we’ll have dinner another time. Have fun with your new friend.”

“Oh I didn’t mean to—”

“Ulqui—”

“It’s fine,” he sighed softly, to soothe them, “I truly do not mind.”

Sousuke beamed at him, like the sun, like the stars, like the lure of an angler fish, all bright and flashy and blinding. “Thank you so much, Ulqui.”

For the longest time, he had been jade, had been ice, had been the void where nothing grew and nothing lived. But for Sousuke, despite his trickery and false light, he could melt to be the quiet, serene Yamato Nadeshiko, like the morning dew on grass and the first rays of a gentle dawn.

He brushed his hand against Sousuke’s, let his eyes soften and crinkle and a flower to bloom in his heart.

“I will see you again, Sousuke. And good day to you too, Mr Urahara.”

Urahara nodded, unsure of himself, yet leaning into Sousuke, something in his eyes that Ulquiorra did not recognise. It might have been admiration, might have been happiness, might have been fondness or worship, he did not know.

What he did know, was that slowly, oh so softly, Sousuke’s trap was snapping shut.

He knelt in the Garden, barely noticing the way the dampness of the dirt was slowly soaking into his pants. He raised a finger, ran it delicately over a petal. Rubbed the velvet softness between his fingers.

Sousuke knelt down behind him, his weight resting lightly on his back. An arm reached over his and long fingers rested on top of his. He turned his hand over, let Sousuke clasp his hand lightly.

“I am no longer interesting or useful to you,” he said.

“No,” Sousuke admitted, uncharacteristically blunt.

He was gripped with the desire to dig his fingers into the dirt, to crush the flowers in his fist, to tear up the garden he’d carefully cultivated over the _years_ he’d spent serving Sousuke, half in love and half in blind devotion to the man who’d saved him. He’d lasted _so much longer_ than anyone else who had caught his Sousuke’s eye, he’d watched them come and go like mayflies.

It had been a point of ill-begotten _pride_ for him.

And it… hurt.

Somewhere within him that he thought he’d never feel anything in.

He’d always known there was something hollow and empty and distant within him, had tried to fill it with loyalty and quiet obedience, with books and an isolation from others that was not quite intentionally cultivated. And it hurt down to the empty, aching depths of him, being thrown away for something brighter and flashier.

A bulb pressed at the back of his throat, and he let it slip out without resistance. White, with its few slim petals unfurling like a starburst. Red stained the petals and the ground.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Sousuke murmured and lead them over to another flower bed, once filled but now only sparsely planted.

Ulquiorra began planting the flower without thought, running through the familiar motions.

A single gleam of white amongst the brown and the smattering of speckles of blue violets.

He rested his fingers gently on the petals one last time, before finally turning to face Sousuke properly.

“You’ll take care of me, won’t you?”

Sousuke graced him with a light kiss on his forehead.

“Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/greymistchild)


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